5075357313

of the number, when I reflect on what we enjoyed, and what we have lost, in him, tho pen drops from my hand, and I can only, with tears, repeat the words of Dyveke,”— ‘ God gave me such a friend? In the center of a wreath, carved on a plain monument of Norwegian marble, is inscribed, “ R tber ,” a name, which, amid painful sen­ sations, excites the cheering idea of what our country has derived, and will continue to de­ rive, from his noble exertions in favor of the peasantry. Great as his claims are to our gratitude in his scholastic capacity, they are no less to our admiration in that of a linguist, poet, and man. Among the numerous and odorous flowers which grow upon his grave, that which the modest author of Niels Ebbesen has planted, is eminently conspicuous for its. beauty and fragrance. The tragedy of Niels Ebbesen is the pro­ duction of Mr. Sander, who was assisted in the language by Mr. Riber, Mr. Sander being a native of Holstein. In his preface to the tragedy, the author makes an acknowledge